


Blood and Fur

by Meady



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, Other, WWE Alt. Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:17:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meady/pseuds/Meady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of brotherhood through fur and blood, of painful history and a platonic bond through four young men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Fur

****

Dean thought a lot about his past. He remembered his childhood – his mother, her habits, her vices. He remembered when she brought _him_ home – and as a child he watched as his living room was painted with his mother’s blood. He remembered the claws, the teeth, why he lived is still beyond him. He remembered being bitten, and then falling into an abyss as black as the wiry hair that covered the creature that sank its fangs into his collarbone.

He still had the scar. Dean recalled the memories, the ones he could still collect in his mind, and his fingertips gently brushed over the raised skin on his clavicle. A reminder to who he was. Anyone brave enough to ask always got the same explanation – the only one that ever made sense to even him- that he was bit by a dog when he was a kid.

Dean’s memories travelled to when he first turned. He was a child on the streets after his mom died, no one cared about the little dirty boy with a dead hooker mom. He was raised by drug dealers, slept in police stations, but his wolf form kept him alive, kept him fed and warm when he needed it the most.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, the full moon came down and saved him. The moon became his mother, kept him safe. When he turned for the first time, the pain was unbearable, but he awoke with a sheep’s carcass next to him, covered in blood. But the hunger pains finally subsided.

Dean’s thoughts melted to reality when Seth came into the living room of their small house, black skinny jeans hugging his hips tightly. He was barefoot, shirtless, and his two-toned hair was tied back into a loose ponytail. Seth held a plate of potato chips in one hand and a glass of some sort of blended green concoction in the other. He plopped down next to Dean and turned on the TV. Dean fiddled with his loose-fitted black tee, unsure whether to play with the fabric of that or his blue denims.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Seth raised an eyebrow.  Dean shrugged.

“Thinking about when I first became a wolf.” Dean admitted. Seth nodded. He knew Dean’s history well enough, and felt a kinship right away with the older blonde. Dean shifted in his spot on the couch, facing Seth more. “What was it like when you turned?”

Seth set the potato chips down onto the coffee table, leaning back and sipping his green smoothie. He swallowed, brow furrowing in thought as he summoned old memories of his first turning.

“I was sick,” He turned to Dean. “I was so fucking weak. I was sick of coughing up blood, the fever, the night chills, I was sick of feeling like, like, my insides were on fire all the fucking time. It was getting hard to walk, speak, I couldn’t even fucking take a piss on my own and I needed a nurse’s help. I was just so exhausted and I wasn’t getting better- and I met Roman, or as they call him, Doctor Reigns.  Roman- shit, he’s so fucking well put together when he’s working Dean. It’s fucking ridiculous. But he looked at me, while I was laying in the hospital bed, and I guess my heart was finally starting to give up, and he ordered the nurses out and offered to help me – he fucking risked his medical license for me, man. He told me he could cure me, I was so desperate for a cure from that hell. He raised my wrist and those fucking fangs of his came out and I tried to scream but my throat was so sore and my vocal chords were so damaged – and he bit me, he fucking bit me, and I just felt- you know the feeling. You know the warmth and the peace that the changing bite gives you. I passed out.”

Seth leaned forward, eyes deadlocked with his brother. Dean knew that warmth, the odd sense of a change coming that could never be reversed. He motioned for Seth to continue, trying to read the intensity on Seth’s face.

“When I came to,” Seth continued, “I already felt stronger. I wasn’t coughing anymore, and the bite was just a scar already.” Seth raised his arm, showing Dean the scar on his arm that slightly resembled similar teeth marks to the one on his collarbone. “The nurses called me a miracle patient. Said that no one has ever recovered that quickly from such a rapid developing virus. And fucking Roman, Dean, he just stood there smiling at me. When I was strong enough to leave the hospital, he stopped me. Asked me to live with him so that he could continue to monitor my health. I was living in a little shithole apartment before he came along, so I was happy to move in with someone wealthy enough to make a comfortable living.”

Dean sighed. He knew that Roman had saved Seth from some sort of virus that wracked his body, but he didn’t know it was that severe. He remembered when Seth and Roman found him all those years ago, he was known as the Cincinnati Scrapper, some fearless idiot who fought on the streets for money, just enough to get some fucking food in him when he was sick of just the same stolen sheep every night. Roman had challenged him, and before Dean could even throw the first punch, he was on the ground and the large Samoan man had him pinned, fangs showing. Dean remembered looking at those teeth, and he knew he found someone like him. He tried to snarl back, baring his own fangs, but Roman just laughed at him. “Come with me, brother, and I’ll keep you safe.” Was all Roman said to him before Dean kicked him off and yelled that he needed no one’s help. Dean was so stupid when he was younger.

It wasn’t until Dean was attacked by multiple men, his shirt ripped and his jeans ripped off him and the knives slashing at his arms and face that all he saw was a blur of fur and blood, and a black wolf three times bigger than he was stood between him and his attackers, who were nothing but heaps of mangled flesh and bone by then. The wolf was accompanied by another about the same size as Dean’s wolf form, a blonde stripe down his black fur, almost giving the image of a Mohawk. Dean collapsed, letting the larger black wolf catch him, and that was all Dean remembered of his time on the streets.


End file.
